


A Study in Locksport

by Jess_B_Fossil



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Aftercareish, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Begging, Learning how to lockpick... in the worst possible way, M/M, PWP, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Teasing, edging kind of?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-17
Updated: 2020-06-17
Packaged: 2021-03-04 04:40:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,105
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24767875
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jess_B_Fossil/pseuds/Jess_B_Fossil
Summary: “I can’t,” Felix breathes.“You have to learn under pressure,” Ashe says, pulling his finger out just enough to press another to Felix’s rim, sliding gently through the slick oil. Even with his wicked words, that’s how he always is-- gentle and encouraging.“I don’t think this is what the Professor had in mind, when he suggested that I consider studying lockpicking.”
Relationships: Ashe Duran | Ashe Ubert/Felix Hugo Fraldarius
Comments: 9
Kudos: 91





	A Study in Locksport

**Author's Note:**

> And with this, I dive into Ashelix headfirst. I've wanted to write for this pairing for a long while, and for some reason, this happened. I like it.
> 
> This is post time skip, but who's counting? Not me.

“Ashe, I--” 

“Shh,” Ashe soothes, running his hand along the small of his back. “It’s alright. You’re doing great,” he says, voice soft and encouraging. 

Felix isn’t alright; Felix is drowning in heat, fingers barely working as he tries to focus on the padlock in front of him, tools curled carefully in his hands. Ashe has a finger up to the last knuckle in his ass, pressing just the way that he likes, doing everything that he can to distract him--

“I can’t,” Felix breathes. 

“You have to learn under pressure,” Ashe says, pulling his finger out just enough to press another to Felix’s rim, sliding gently through the slick oil. Even with his wicked words, that’s how he always is-- gentle and encouraging. 

“I don’t think this is what the Professor had in mind, when he suggested that I consider studying lockpicking.”

“We aren’t in school anymore,” Ashe says, his free hand spreading wide across Felix’s lower back, pressing against the muscles there. “And there are plenty of ways to study.” There’s a pause, as Ashe pulls his finger out entirely, pulling at his rim delicately, and Felix whines under the touch. “Back to work,” Ashe tells him, slicking his fingers once more and slipping two in this time. 

Felix’s breath hitches at the stretch, but he sets to work, trying to focus. He holds a tension pick in his left hand and the lockpick in his right, the way that Ashe showed him. Almost like holding a crochet hook, horizontal as Felix presses it into the tumblers, trying to wiggle them around. 

“Gently,” Ashe says, fingers pressing into Felix, before pulling back out, setting a soft rhythm that drives him wild. Felix has to pause, sweat beading on his brow, trying not to chase Ashe’s touch with his hips. Trying not to buck into the easy tempo that Ashe has set. It’s maddening, it drives him wild; it’s the perfect distraction. 

Maybe Ashe is onto something, when it comes to hands-on training.

Still, Felix tends to bite back when he’s cornered, so he says, “I doubt that I’d be picking locks while being fucked on a battlefield.”

Ashe hums at that, his other hand grabbing at his bare ass cheek, squeezing it. “No,” he says, “You’d be dead. Focus.” 

Felix does his best, but it’s hard. Ashe presses his fingers in deep, pumping at a different angle and Felix’s hands jar, nearly dropping the picks. The tumblers in the lock slide back into place and he hisses in annoyance, before letting out a drawn out moan, hips hitching backwards onto Ashe’s fingers, trying to chase that addicting friction and--

Ashe pulls his fingers out and Felix whines. 

“You stopped,” Ashe says, smoothing his hand over Felix’s backside.

“My knees hurt,” Felix complains. He’s been kneeling on the floor for nearly twenty minutes, pitched forwards as he leans over his practice padlock. 

“We’re on a rug,” Ashe says. “Softest fur around.”

“The bed is better.”

“Yes,” Ashe agrees, “but you won’t be picking locks on a bed, you’ll be picking them on a battlefield. You’ll be cramped into odd positions, trying to make them work. Kneeling on hard floors will be the least of your worries.” His thumb dips back into the crack of Felix’s ass, pulling the cheek aside to look at his handwork, humming in approval. 

_“Ashe,”_ Felix says. He hates how his voice hitches in anticipation, how his back arches just slightly at the thought of Ashe’s gentle touch. But Ashe only waits, looking, running his thumb along his loosened hole, but never dipping quite in and-- 

“You know the rules,” Ashe says. “You stop, I stop.”

Right, _practice._ Felix takes hold of the picks once more. He jams the tension tool in a little harder than necessary, but his concentration is on a hair trigger at this point. Still, Felix is determined, pressing the pick into the lock.

Ashe slicks his fingers again and presses them in, and Felix punches out a breath, pick stalling slightly. But he doesn’t stop. He wiggles the lockpick around, trying to jump the tumblers but--

 _“Shit,”_ Felix groans, when Ashe hooks his fingers into a good angle. It’s not _the_ angle, and he’s not pressing against _that_ spot, but he’s close, inching around it before pulling away cruelly. Ashe is a tease, he’s always been a tease, and this is no different. 

“You need to loosen up,” Ashe says, and Felix wants to retort, but he’s trying to concentrate on the dumb lock, sweat beading on his brow. “Your hand, I mean,” Ashe continues. 

“For fucks sake,” Felix snaps and Ashe laughs, leaning forward to look over his shoulder, taking in the way that Felix is grasping the lockpick.

“Horizontal is good,” Ashe whispers into his ear. “But you’re holding it too tightly. Loosen your grip and you’ll be able to glide the pick into the lock with more ease.” He punctuates his words by slipping his fingers out of him and back in, scissoring them lightly, and Felix can feel the way the Ashe smiles against into his neck when he arches into him, focus momentarily lost. 

“Ashe,” he bites out, voice exhausted, sweat beading along his brow. 

Ashe pumps his fingers in and out, almost lazily. “It’s alright, you almost have it. Try again.”

Felix manages to follow the advice, loosening his fingers and slipping the lockpick back in. It’s a careful process, trying to wriggle the little rod into the tumblers, but he thinks that he can manage. 

“That’s it,” Ashe says, still looking over his shoulder, his chest against Felix’s back. Fingers still pumping into his ass languidly, spreading gently before angling back in just so, dragging out the pressure. Ashe’s fingers are deadly with a bow, and even deadlier in the bedroom, calloused and dexterous in a way that only thieves can be. “You’re doing so good.”

Felix moans, grinding his hips back, biting his lips at the pleasurable stretch. One tumbler lifts, and then another. Ashe’s voice is soft in Felix’s ear, praising him and urging him on, and the words slip straight to his cock, which is already hard against his thigh and leaking. Felix tries to focus his attention on his task, licking his lips and trying to ignore the way that Ashe hitches fingers just so, or the way that his other hand smooths along the backside of his thigh. 

The pick slides through the rest of the tumblers and the lock falls free. Felix breathes out a sigh of relief, dropping the lock to the floor, and the picks with it. 

Ashe hums, kissing his neck, saying, “Good job. Excellent form.” And then he hooks his fingers in a very specific direction, and Felix practically howls underneath him, hips hitching backwards as he ruts against his hand hard. 

“Ashe,” Felix says, voice strained. “Please,” he begs, _“Please.”_

Ashe hums once more, pulling back to ghost his hand over the curve of his ass, squeezing the skin of his cheek. “You did so well,” he says. “You still managed, despite my distraction.”

“Distraction,” Felix says, almost annoyed. 

Ashe is already slicking his cock up though, the tip pressing against his hole. “I promised a reward, for a job well done,” he says. He slides in easily, slickly, perfectly. Felix moans long and low, head falling forward as his hands dig into the soft fur rug. “Fuck,” he breathes, already pressing back, already trying to take as much of Ashe as he can. 

“Perfect,” Ashe says when he bottoms out, fingers digging into Felix’s hips, pulling him closer. Felix lets him, falling to the floor, arching his back at being filled, breathing short and hitched as he tries not to tip over the edge immediately, because Ashe has egged him on and on and on, for what seems like forever.

Ashe sets a slow and easy pace, pulling out and easing back in, rolling his hips into Felix with a well-placed grind.

“Goddess,” Felix breathes, eyes slipping closed at the feeling of it, at the stretch and the fullness of Ashe. It’s perfect, it feels so good, he’s about to lose himself entirely to the feel of it, and way too soon. 

Ashe leans back over, chest to his back, hand sliding up his back to find Felix’s hair, pulling at it. Felix groans, pressing back immediately. 

“Please,” Felix begs, and it sounds pitiful, the way the words come out, but he’s waiting too long. 

“Yes,” Ashe says, fingers tightening in his ponytail and yanking a little bit harder. His scalp burns, but in a good kind of way that distracts Felix. It’s good, so good, just this side of overwhelming. 

Ashe’s free hand slides underneath them to curl around his neglected cock and Felix yelps, bucking into his warm and calloused grasp. Ashe slides his hand along his length, base to tip, fingers twisting around his head, thumbing at his slit and--

He’s already tumbling over the edge, white hot and burning, coming into Ashe’s hand as he ruts wild into his grasp. 

“Ashe,” Felix moans. “Ashe, _Ashe--”_

Ashe doesn’t speed up his thrusts, but he presses in deeper, longer, letting go of Felix’s cock as he pulls his hips upwards. It should be too much, Felix thinks, but it’s the perfect balance of what he needs and just a little bit more, the perfect ending to a satisfying study session. As ridiculous as it sounds. 

Felix can tell Ashe is close, from the stuttering rhythm of his hips and the way his fingers curl into his skin tighter and tighter.

“Come on,” Felix says to him, fingers tightening in the soft fur of the rug as he arches back against him. Ashe pulls on his hair more, the sharp sting in his scalp grounding. “Come on, Ashe.”

It’s Ashe’s turn to curse, yanking Felix harshly against him as he comes, filling him to the brim as he slides a hand along the sweaty contours of his back. Ashe halts, leaning over Felix as he lets go of his hair, moving to press a swift kiss to the side of his neck, before pressing his forehead there, trying to calm himself. 

Felix is heaving heavy breaths, as he collapses into the soft fur rug, tired and pleasantly sore. 

“So,” Ashe says from above him, “I think the professor might have been correct, thinking you had a talent for lockpicking.”

“Shut it,” Felix says, but it’s without his usual bite. His limbs are like jelly, and he’s far too satisfied to put up a real fight, not that he wants too. Ashe knows just how to push his buttons; _just_ how to care for him in the right ways. He’s been left with the sort of deep-seated satisfaction that will remain with him for days, Felix sighing wearily into the rug. 

“I wonder,” Ashe muses, before slipping out gently and standing to find a washcloth. “Will there be a round two?”

“Not anytime soon,” Felix says. “I don’t think I could focus on this if I wanted to.”

“That’s not a no,” Ashe says when he returns, wiping him down with a soft touch.

“It’s not a no,” Felix confirms. 

“Good,” Ashe says, cupping the cheek of his ass again with one last squeeze. “Because you still have a long way to go. It took you nearly a half hour to undo that padlock, and that was as simple as they come.”

Felix glares at him, but Ashe only smiles back, expression radiant as he massages feeling back into his loose limbs. Felix sighs, before closing his eyes and relenting. “Yeah, yeah,” he murmurs. 

Ashe hums, leaning over him once more. “You love me though,” he says with a charming smile. “Enough to keep this up.”

Felix sighs, but he knows that he doesn’t need to actually say it. Ashe laughs lightly above him before pulling away. “Come on, I’ll help you to the bed. Tomorrow, we’ll try again.”

“And if I don’t pick the lock well?” Felix asks.

“Well, I guess I’ll have to punish you,” Ashe says, pulling him to his feet.

Felix muses at that, his lips twisting into a small little smile as he pulls Ashe closer. “It’s not much of a punishment if I enjoy it.”

“No, I suppose not,” Ashe says, leaning closer. Their mouths are close enough for them to breathe each other’s air. “But then again, you’ll learn either way.”

“Yeah,” Felix says, before dipping down and closing the distance between them. He kisses Ashe and Ashe kisses him back, before they tumble into their bed tiredly. “Yeah.”

  
  
  
  
  
  


**Author's Note:**

> Have questions? A burning need for answers? Have a story idea? Just want to talk? Don't forget to check out my [Tumblr](https://missmarquin.tumblr.com/), and drop an ask! 
> 
> Also, follow me on [Twitter!](https://twitter.com/HornyBaldFossil)


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